


in rueing

by teipots



Category: Naruto
Genre: F/M, Friendship, Tragedy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-09
Updated: 2012-10-09
Packaged: 2017-11-15 22:53:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,146
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/532675
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/teipots/pseuds/teipots
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>shikamaru only wishes ino had taken nothing with her when she went.</p>
            </blockquote>





	in rueing

First Asuma, now her.

Shikamaru tries, yet again, to cry, but in vain. Although he isn’t an apathetic man detached from life, love, and the hilarity that can sometimes ensue, he finds crying inane and troublesome. It’s only ironic now that he’s willing to give up his world for the bittersweet release of a good bawl. 

The sky is a surreal and beautiful shade of blue. Instead, Shikamaru glues his eyes to the ground; his mind boils in unfounded rage at the brilliant sky and the vibrant sun shitting lights between the lulling clouds, rendering the entire milieu tragically sunny. 

_Mother Nature is clearly an ignorant old fuck._

Shikamaru never painted himself a tough guy (and he couldn't if he tried), so when his hands find his dry eyes, his rage died down to mere ambivalence at his inability to shed a tear… because what did matter at this point? Shikamaru heaves a sigh, and brings a cigarette to his lips and lights it. 

Through the wispy haze, his eyes shift to Ino’s gravestone. She was once so spirited, passionate, and full of life—and she’s now six-feet under, represented by nothing more than a slab of rock.

Why, why, _why_ is Shikamaru—through waterless eyes no less—so angered by her death? It’s an understatement to say Ino was self-absorbed and insufferable. She always carried an air of confidence wherever she went with apparently _nothing_ substantial to back it up. Ino didn’t understand when to shut up, and not to mention she was one of the _dullest_ scissors in the drawer. In short, Yamanaka Ino was the most troublesome person Shikamaru has ever met… at least that’s what he tells himself.

\- - -

People begin to leave the graveyard near dusk. Cloaked in appropriate black, they are merely lifeless blobs from the corners of Shikamaru’s eyes, parting away from him, away from her. He can’t help but be darkly amused; they were all once Ino’s acquaintances and teammates, and they’re now leaving her shrouded under dirt as a fresh feast for maggots and fuck knows what else.

_Shit happens,_ he reminds himself.

Kurenai was the one who told him that. When Asuma died, Kurenai knew to cease her waterworks for once and for all and repeat to herself (often with a grim Shikamaru by her side) that death is an unwelcoming friend, and life of a shinobe isn’t a steady one—as they all well know.

Shikamaru takes another one of his many drags and curses under his breath. Dull eyes still fixed on Ino’s gravestone, he mentally lists everything he disliked about her. Certainly, yes, she was his close friend—too close for comfort one could say—but he _hated_ her character. 

Ino, the blond and chirpy twit who had a knack for highlighting Shikamaru’s indolence, who constantly underscored his apathy to missions, and who emphasized his shortcomings on the battleground. Ino was far from amazing, but she seemed to outstrip Shikamaru whenever they were together, and the worst part was that she knew this and made sure he wouldn’t forget it.

_“You bring out the best in me, Shikamaru, something even I thought was impossible. Maybe that’s why I like you so much.”_

_Too bad I hate you._

_“Well, at least you feel something.”_

When Chouji walks over to Shikamaru and rests his hand on his back, his rotund cheeks were wet. How can Shikamaru be so thoughtless? After all, Ino wasn’t only his friend. He manages to muster a smile at Chouji ( _go ahead friend, wallow in your sorrow…  I’m apparently strong enough for both of us_ ) all the while realizing most people are already gone. Upon another drag, Shikamaru realizes he doesn’t feel like leaving with his friend yet.

_Ino wasn’t all that… so why do I stand here pretending otherwise?_

He wonders why everything between them was a competition. The witty banters, snarky remarks, even the morning walks (sometimes run, depending on Ino’s challenge of the day) to their training ground… in retrospect, they all seemed to mean something yet absolutely nothing. Shikamaru doesn’t have a competitive bone in him, but with Ino, he would put _some_ effort in most things he did… and this says something.

_“Why is it that I’m everything you aren’t?”_

Shikamaru curses under his breath.

That airhead never let anyone in besides Sakura (what a surprise). That sunny personality of her’s (obnoxious, actually) was a generic ‘face’ she projected onto everyone. Sakura knew Ino too well, so she is the exception. But if anyone else knew her well enough to see past her sprightly exterior, but not enough to unravel what (horror) lurked behind it, Ino was quite an enigma. 

_What the actual fuck?_

Shikamaru laughs at his own theory. This is all very irrelevant and senseless because… because Ino passed away, Ino’s six feet under and pushing up daisies… Ino is dead as shit. So why?

It’s understandable that there were things she kept from Shikamaru despite their friendship, and that’s fine by him. And it’s more or less justified why Ino withheld her failing health from the general public… but why from _him_ of all people? Come hell or high water, she was often there to comfort Shikamaru along with Chouji… he wants her to find solace in him, too, at least as a reimbursement of some kind.

_"You can't put a price on friendship, asshole."_

\- - -

They had a good run for fifteen years as friends and teammates. 

One evening after their first C-ranked mission, Asuma treated his team out for yakiniku for the first time. 

While waiting for their orders, Asuma remarked that teamwork is important _,_ and he is impressed at his team’s cooperation thus far. Ino-Shika-Chou is nifty, but has its limitations as with many collaboration jutsu, and the team should focus on improving their overall teamwork outside of that specific offense. Individually, Chouji often executed his part of their strategy hands down (albeit slowly), but if only Shikamaru and Ino would better their coordination by anticipating one another’s tactics and be in synch with every move, their team would perhaps one day achieve mediocrity.

Ino jabbed her tongue out at Shikamaru from across the table.

Asuma continued that Ino was bestowed with the energy and poise on the battlefield, and Shikamaru will have had the framework of their attacks and possible defenses orchestrated. So, they should be bringing out the best in each other by Ino-Shika-Chou standards. However, Asuma ate his words after their next ten to twenty missions—where it all ended in a mindless quarrel of the same blasphemy…

_“I was signaling you, Shikamaru—open your eyes on the field for once!”_

_“I said, right—not left! Which part of that did you not get, halfwit?”_

_“I was behind Chouji like I said I would be, where the hell were you?”_

_“Jesus… the only thing you can do_ well _is nag.”_

\- - -

_Why we were close I’ll never know._

_“It’s simple: I liked you, and you liked me… despite everything.”_

Shikamaru chucks away his cigarette butt and rubs his eyes frantically; he has never felt so angry. The sudden, insensible rage that burned within him was blinding. He frees a growl of frustration and wishes Ino were here with him, right now, _tangible and alive_ because he wants— _needs_ —to _throttle_ the life out of her. 

What the hell was she thinking? If Shikamaru had known Ino’s state… well, that would’ve extended both of their agony wouldn’t it?

\- - -

Months before Ino passed away in June, Shikamaru saw little of her. Whenever he was assigned the leader of ANBU missions ( _Oh geez, give me a break, Tsunade-sama…_ ), Ino was always his team’s medic-nin and worked defense when necessary—best of both worlds. 

Since February, Shikamaru noted Ino’s absence in his total of eight missions. Other medic-nins proved to be helpful, but something was off when they mended his wounds: their chakra levels weren’t right, they gripped his arms awkwardly, they either healed him leisurely or failed to give his injuries enough time, they… just weren’t Yamanaka Ino. Also, none of them criticized him at the end of the mission, or provided him with the occasional snarky remarks. Not that Shikamaru cared, of course. Having Ino around was like having a constant reminder of how much you can suck at everything. So, wherever Ino was, she probably unleashed hell. 

Nevertheless, he couldn't resist asking Sakura—with feigned nonchalance—where “that troublesome woman” was over noodles one evening. Shikamaru remembers it well when Sakura deliberately wolfed down her food to avoid eye contact. She later informed him that Ino was working the late night shifts in the hospital with Shizune. Little did he know Ino was the patient.

_You were sick, and I… I could’ve—_

_“—could’ve what, Shikamaru,_ saved _me?”_

\- - -

Ino was pale as a ghost. 

_She might've well been a ghost._

Shikamaru swallowed hard, unable to fully digest the sight.

She was sitting on the hospital bed, leaning almost comfortably (helplessly) on the bleached pillows. Shikamaru studied the room with stunned eyes: a wide metal pan was stocked with bottled pills of different colours on the nightstand, heaps of books were stacked beside her bed, holding up a half-empty mug of tea, most of her clothing were tucked away in the white wardrobe, yellow lilies were wilting by the window, and a framed photograph of her and Sakura hung right above her bed. 

_How long has she been here?_

Ino looked jaded and waifish; her golden hair was fanned out down her willowy back. This was one of the few times he had seen her hair let down, but it shouldn't be like _this_. Shikamaru eyed her hungrily, absorbing every painstaking detail from her furrowed brows down to her full but colourless lips. 

It took a while before Ino realized Shikamaru was at the door. She looked up at him and put down her book.

“Hi,” she said, smiling softly.

Shikamaru didn’t know how much he had missed her voice until he heard it; the satiation was like warm tea down his throat on a cold night. Ino pointed to the chair by her bed, gesturing for him to sit down. She tried to fight off an incoming cough with surprising success, but looked feebler having done so.

“How are you?” asked she.

“I… _fine_ ,” Shikamaru responded quietly. “You?”

_How do you think she is?_

“Good, good,” Ino replied. “I heard your last mission went well.”

“It was okay,”

“I’m glad to hear you were able to accomplish something without me,” she teased lightly, her smile faltering.

Shikamaru remained silent and looked into her bright eyes. Ino’s deep pools of teal were the only part of her that still retained some semblance of life; externally, she was barely there. Shikamaru couldn't stand knowing it wouldn’t last. He withdrew his gaze.

Ino called out his name quietly, but he only glowered at his knees—mind boggled with hundreds of questions. Shikamaru wanted her to explain everything, he wanted her to trust him unconditionally, he wanted her to let him in, he wanted her to want him the same way he wants her, but most of all, he wanted her to stop looking so goddamn pale and thin.

"Why?" He managed to ask.

"Why…" Ino echoed him. "I'm sick and I'm dying, Shikamaru, there’s no ‘why’. I just am."

He looked up at her, disgruntled. How could she simply say that? Yet Shikamaru should’ve known after fifteen years of tongue-in-cheek bantering she wouldn't sugarcoat around him. Ino’s hands found his on top of the bed sheets. Shikamaru wanted to pull away, but couldn’t; he hadn’t felt her touch in a long time, and a simple handholding was better than nothing. 

_Why do you hold my hand when you are sitting on a hospital bed,_ dying _? Why now?_

"Do you hate me?" Ino asked, boring into his dark eyes.

_I hate that you are dying. I hate that I can’t have you if you die._

Shikamaru said nothing. Ino let go of his hand and heaved a sigh.

“I didn’t want you to see me like this,” she explained. “I’m not exactly an eyeful right now, and I’m clearly in no position to entertain.”

“You make everything out to be so superficial,”

“It’s better that way,”

When he finally caved and looked at her (still beautiful, despite everything), he wanted to kiss her… something along the lines of articulating her existence. Ino’s troublesome pair of lips which countless stupid criticisms seeped from looked strangely inviting. 

She gestured towards Shikamaru to join her on the bed. Naturally and helplessly, he did. Ino placed her head on his shoulder and entwined her fingers with his. Shikamaru could hear her irregular breathing. He closed his eyes peacefully, allowing the poignancy to set in. He still felt wonderfully odd and giddy to share a sentimental moment with Ino despite having done so innumerable times in the past. Of course, Shikamaru _had_ to remember. Suppressing waves of nostalgia, he told himself that he’s with her right _now_ , and that’s what matters. 

“Your head feels light, airhead,” Shikamaru teased with a sad smile.

“You’re impossible,” chucked Ino.

We _are impossible._

“I can leave… if you want,”

Ino kept silent. She knows she tolerates Shikamaru’s company more than she should. She could feel his rough fingers gently graze over hers; she could also smell his fresh, earthy scent—one she’s used to and had grown to like. When Ino looked up at him, she noticed his left stud earring, courtesy of Asuma. She smiled to herself. They both had their ears pierced together when they were ten, along with Chouji; it was a Ino-Shika-Chou tradition. Ino laughed at Shikamaru for a good month when his left ear became infected.

_“Haa, your earlobe looks like a slice of raw pork!”_

_“Hey, that’s not nice, Ino… but she’s right, Shikamaru, it looks real nasty. Wait, is that pus?”_

_“… tsch, whatever…”_

Ino hoped she wouldn’t remember the trivial memories—because it tends to be the small things that brought her the most joy. When you’re chained to your deathbed 24/7, you can’t help but think, more specifically, _reminisce_. Ino bit her bottom lip and realized, for the hundredth time, how happy she was to have had Shikamaru and Chouji as friends.

“I know I couldn’t have you see me, but I… I’ve missed you so much,” Ino admitted. “So, I told Chouji to… yeah.”

Shikamaru tensed.

“I’m really sorry,” continued Ino.

She didn’t know who she was apologizing to: Shikamaru or herself.

“Don’t be so troublesome,” Shikamaru muttered, knowing that is impossible with her.

\- - -

It’s well into the night when Shikamaru walks home from the funeral. Jaws clenched, he fiddles with the pack of cigarettes in his pocket.

Ino understood his nasty habit when Asuma died—their former teacher’s infamous oral fixation adopted by his ingenious student. But around four months after, Ino stopped feigning tolerance and told Shikamaru flat out to stop being such a fool, and to dispose his cigarettes straightaway if he wants to live long enough to see his first-born graduate from the Academy.

_“Don’t you think it’s time you quit?”_

_“Give me the damn pack, Shikamaru!”_

_“Don’t make me shove these cancer sticks up your ass!”_  

\- - -

“I don’t see why you care,” Shikamaru shrugged. “Temari doesn’t mind.”

He took a long drag and blew it in Ino’s general direction. She rolled her eyes and kissed her teeth.

It was a quarter past midnight. Team Ten just came back from a strenuous two-week mission in Kumogakure, and Shikamaru (being the gentleman he is) was walking Ino home when he decided to light up. When he saw her staring at him _that_ way—that incoming-snarky-remark way—he expected the usual, yet all she said was for him to put out that cigarette. 

“I’m not Temari, so why are you even comparing?” Ino snapped. “Now put that out.”

Since Shikamaru’s a pathetic excuse of a gentleman—but one nonetheless—he normally wouldn’t argue further and do as the lady says. But because this particular lady was Ino, and he knows Ino, and she him, Shikamaru just smiled to himself and ignored her request.

“Fine, _fine!_ ” Ino growled and quickened her pace. “Do what you will. Write your own eulogy for all I care.”

“Ino… come on,”

Shikamaru watched her stomp away, taking the other route home. 

“And don’t follow me!” Ino bellowed into the dark.

Shikamaru rolled his eyes and shook his head. 

_Where does she get the energy…?_

He chucked away his pack absentmindedly into a trashcan as he walked home behind her that night.

\- - -

Well, Ino’s dead now. Shikamaru can smoke until he joins her in the afterlife.

The last thing he needs is a nagging woman by his side, breathing down his neck and ready to pounce. No one wants a scary spouse—domineering, brash, and clearly troublesome. His father spends most of his time away from the house while his mother sports such a tyrannical temperament it’s unheard to mankind. Rarely, but surely, Shikamaru catches the tenderness in her mother’s eyes when she looks at her father (often after missions, when Shikaku’s wolfing down his supper), but is it really worth it?

Ino. Well, she’s something else. Shikamaru can’t pinpoint what it was about her that manages to draw him into her gall of a personality.

_I don’t need you… I’m better off without you._

_“We were never ‘with’ each other, Shikamaru… that’s wishful thinking on your part.”_

_Then what the hell were you to me? And don’t say friend! I don’t yield to mind games for a ‘friend’._

  _\- - -_

Three years down the drain with Temari.

Shikamaru couldn't tell you why he had asked her out in the first place. Frankly, he couldn't tell you if he tried. ‘They’ just happened. Shikamaru never asked her out formally, nor did Temari tell him straight up, “why, yes, I’ll become your girlfriend”. He honestly thought that if they were meant to be, the universe will sort everything out. So, he went with the flow.

And things were _really_ good for a while. So good that Shikamaru woke up everyday with a smile stitched on his face, ready to go. Of course, Temari had her moments of hot-blooded explosions, but nothing Shikamaru couldn’t handle… or dodge. 

“I hope this one lasts, Shikamaru,” Ino commented over dango one afternoon. “Your last relationship only lasted two months, and I've heard an earful from Shiho about you.”

“Yeah, yeah… what about you? How is Sasuke 2.0?”

“It's Sai," she spat. “And we are doing _great_ if you really want to know.”

“Not really,”

“Then why’d you ask!”

Ino constantly teased Shikamaru for being the laziest boyfriend ever—if that. She also noted on various occasions that Temari could do a lot better, but then again, she lives in a sandcastle and flies around on a fan. Shikamaru would sporadically jab back that Sai is a socially awkward vampire who doodles in his room all night long, reads books about friendship and sulks over his lack of. Their lighthearted taunts were for nothing more than comedic value. 

As much as Chouji loved Ino, he was never a fan of her brashness, and couldn’t understand how Shikamaru, as mild as he is, strangely tallied with Ino in good humour; he chewed his dango and shook his head as if to say _what a piece of work they are_. 

\- - -

_“I should’ve known we wouldn’t last,”_

_“How could you possibly know_ that _?”_

_“She was too pretty,”_

_“You’re insane,_

_“And she didn’t want kids,”_

_“Never?”_

_“That’s what she told me…”_

_“You guys weren’t even engaged and were talking about kids already?”_

_“I…” Shikamaru turned to look at Chouji. “I had an idea, y’know? Of how my life was going to turn out: job, wife, kids… the whole lot. And she didn’t fit into any of it.”_

_“I always thought you were supposed to find somebody you love and determine life_ together _.”_

_“Yeah, that sounds better. I guess I wasn’t into her enough to want to do that.”_

_Chouji laughed. “You aren’t very lax about this, are you?”_

_Shikamaru laughed with his friend, surprised with himself. “No… I guess I’m not.”_

_“I wonder what kind of woman you’ll_ want _to commit to.”_

\- - -

Nevertheless, when Ino and Shikamaru bumped into each other at the Jounin Standby Station weeks later, she was genuinely astounded when he offhandedly informed her he and Temari were over. Truthfully, Shikamaru _was_ a bit upset, but more so at his three ‘wasted’ years. Ino invited him over for tea (beer) for a good ol’ heart-to-heart.

“I’m sorry, Shikamaru,” Ino whispered. “I actually bet Sakura that you’ll for sure settle down with Temari. Shit.”

“Oh, uh… it’s fine,” Shikamaru said. “Like I told Chouji, it was just all so troublesome.”

Ino nodded, taking a sip of her beer. “Well, how ‘bout you focus on our mission to Iwagakure next week… I heard they’ve some lovely girls over there.”

Shikamaru chuckled; it’s times like this when his heart grows fonder. Although Ino was as troublesome as the next woman—if not more so—she rarely romanticized relationships and surprisingly understood when to love and let go. Or maybe because she witnessed the rise and fall of Uchiha Sasuke and its agonizing aftermath on Sakura.

"I can't believe we ended things over squid," Shikamaru continued, unable to contain his smile. “How fitting.”

"So, who was the dumper over the said squid?" grinned Ino.

Shikamaru laughed and looked at his friend affectionately. He took a sip of his beer and sat it down, peeling off its label all the while. Ino continued to look at him, waiting patiently for his answer (oh, _now_ she has patience). 

Shikamaru shrugged sheepishly. 

"Does it matter?"

\- - - 

Shikamaru wasn't there when she died. 

Yamanaka Ino passed away at two in the morning, give or take. Shizune went to check up on her an hour later and felt that she was stiff and cold. 

Sakura’s teary face at the hospital was all the confirmation Shikamaru needed.

He didn’t want to know.

_She must’ve been sleeping peacefully when it happened… with a subtle smile plastered on her face, no doubt. It didn't look like she suffered one bit—she died in her sleep. A good death. Ino probably wanted to go… this world is tiring, this world is sick, we are jaded, she wouldn’t be happy with me… and she wanted to go… so she did…_

Ino left nothing—no sacred notes or pious last words—and she took nothing with her.

_“What about Konoha’s honorable shinobes dying a cold death on the battlefield? Eventually we all die. This isn’t a big deal in hindsight, Shikamaru…”_

\- - -

Shikamaru abruptly stops in the middle of his walk and scrunches down as if he received a hard blow to the abdomen. Choking on dry sobs, his hands are clenched into whitened fists as he begins to tremble violently. He feels that a part of him died with Ino, because she would have been a part of his future… Shikamaru was sure of it.

His earlier anger at the funeral has been reduced to a clusterfuck of emotions he cannot understand himself—and they erupted into bouts of broken cries. Shikamaru realizes he has no choice but to wallow in Ino’s death this way.

_…I hate that you are dying. I hate that I can’t have you if you die…_

Slowly and painfully, his memories of Ino begin to play in his head in chorus, memories featuring her playful grin, determined smirk, solemn stare, tear-stained cheeks, furrowed brows, surly pout… but Shikamaru can only hear his own wails.

_Finally, huh._

_About time the waterworks began._

“You… You’re more troublesome now that you’re gone,” Shikamaru cries, fresh tears glide down his cheeks almost gracefully.

_“Maybe… but you’ve yet to let me go.”_

_\- - -_

Once upon a time when Shikamaru and Ino first met at the young age of five, it was their fathers who introduced them to each other.

Shikaku cracked a joke to Inoichi, who bursted out in deafening laughter, something along the lines of their children holding each other's hands in matrimony one day. Typical jests old friends crack at the expense of their kids, both of them obviously oblivious to their children's flushed faces.

Ino observed Shikamaru with a curious eye as she held on to Inoichi. She wondered why on earth her father would give his only daughter away to such a stupid-looking boy. Shikamaru studied Ino with fleeting interest and wondered if they’ll be happily married or spawn silly fights similar to his parents—naturally, being Nara Shikamaru, he decided on the latter and half-smiled at his troublesome future wife.

“Hi.”

\- - -

_Hey, dad… why did you ever marry such a strict woman?_   
_… well… your mom has times when she’s happy and cheerful, too. That’s probably why._   
_… that’s it?_

* * *

 

Fin

 


End file.
